


Ghost of Valentine's Days Past

by crocodilepatronus



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Chocolate Sauce, M/M, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-12 11:18:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1185612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crocodilepatronus/pseuds/crocodilepatronus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>3 short stories of Valentine's Days in Thomas Barrow's life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. February 14, 1912

**February 14, 1912**

“They’re the exact color of your lips, you know, Thomas.” Philip said, brushing another strawberry against Thomas’s mouth. “And taste just as sweet.”

Thomas took a bite just as Philip drew his hand away, rubbing his hands down Thomas’s naked chest and pressing their lips together.

His encounters with Philip had been so rarely “romantic” taking place in coat rooms and once even in a bathroom, or outside even… that staying in the guest bedroom of Philip’s London house on his dark red sheets in the four poster king size bed, a plate full of strawberries, a bowl full of chocolate sauce, and a bottle of champagne was enough to make Thomas think he was dreaming. He’d pinched himself several times to check.

Philip broke away from the kiss first, leaving Thomas breathless. He ran his tongue along his lips, smirking.

“Delicious.”

The duke dipped two fingers into the chocolate sauce on the bedside table and drew a heart around Thomas’s nipple. The warm liquid tickled at his skin and he squirmed, much to Philip’s delight as he began rubbing his erection between Thomas’s thighs.

“You’re the perfect Valentine treat.” Philip purred, using the flat of his tongue to lap up the chocolate he’d placed on Thomas’s chest.

“G-god…” Thomas muttered under his breath, raking his fingers through the man’s hair and whimpering helplessly as his tongue swirled around his nipple. Philip looked smug when he sat up again, dipping his fingers in chocolate once more and this time bringing them to Thomas’s mouth. Thomas eagerly took them between his lips down to the knuckle, sucking them with loud enthusiasm, moaning everytime Philip slid the digits in and out. He savored the rich taste of the chocolate, doubting he’d ever taste anything so decadent again, and wanting to memorize it.

“I want you to do that to my cock later.” Philip said, his voice coming out strained as he began slowly grinding his hips against Thomas’s, fighting to get what friction he could against Thomas’s skin. He removed the fingers with wet popping sound, stroking his hand down Thomas’s face and running his thumb across his wet, reddened, lower lip.

“Now roll over for me.”

Thomas did as he was told, humming with pleasure as he felt the duke’s weight on his back and his hands gently kneading at his ass. The other man’s lips were leaving trails of kisses down the back of his neck, across his shoulders… He closed his eyes, feeling blissfully content… and snapped them open again when Philip jammed his thumb up his arse without warning. He made a yelp of protest and Philip chuckled, silencing him by putting a strawberry in his mouth.

“Hush. You’ll wake the whole house up.” he cooed, slowly working the thick finger in and out.

Thomas bit down on the strawberry and spit the other half out indignantly.

“I could do with a little warning.” he huffed but in no time he was thrusting his hips back to meet Philip’s hand and had no objections when Philip began slicking his jutting erection and pressing into him.

“F-fuck…” he swore, hands curling in the soft bed sheets as the duke seated himself in him. He could feel his fingernails digging into the flesh of his hips, practically breaking the skin. Philip always wanted to maintain a fast rhythm when he was the one giving and not receiving and Thomas had no choice but to take it, body shaking under every thrust and biting down on the pillow to silence the groans he was making.

“You sound like a whore like that.” Philip panted against his ear, his hips connecting with Thomas’s ass once more with a loud slap. “My whore. Mmn… make that sound again…”

“G-God, Philip, please…” Thomas begged. His cock was leaking onto the sheets and painfully hard. He wanted release but of course the duke’s wishes were always what came first. He gasped with pleasure just at the feeling of his fingertips brushing along his shaft when he finally gripped his cock and began stroking him off. It didn’t take much. Thomas fell forward onto the soft pillows, out of breath and sore from exhertion. 


	2. February 14, 1917

**February 14, 1917**

One of the most cheerful Valentines Day Thomas had ever experienced was ironically in the midst of the great war.

The hospital was aflutter in the spirit of the holiday. A part of Thomas resented having to hand out letters to the wounded soldiers from their family and sweethearts back home when he himself hadn’t received any but on the other hand even his little blackened heart warmed at the sight of some of the men who’d not had hope in so long smiling and dabbing their eyes as they clutched the cards with their bandaged hands.

“Is that…Thomas?” Edward Courtenay said from the bed, his face turning in Thomas’s direction as he walked up to him. His blue eyes were fixed on Thomas’s face but of course he couldn’t register him.

“How did you know?” Thomas asked, smiling and pulling up a chair.

Edward’s face broke into a grin. His smiles were rare but beautiful things to behold- slightly crooked but radiating sincerity. Thomas thought Edward was the type of person who’d once lived a life where he’d smiled often. Now he didn’t have much to smile about.

“I’m starting to memorize what your gait sounds like.” Edward explained with a hint of pride, sitting up in bed.

“Perhaps I should foxtrot towards you everyday so you know it’s me.” Thomas said, opening the newspaper as was their ritual.

“Th-Thomas.” Edward stammered, his slender fingers fiddling with the edge of his own shirt.

“Mmm?” Thomas vocalized distractedly, looking at the headlines of the paper. Everything was either drab or depressing…

“Today’s Saint Valentines Day, isn’t it?”

Thomas looked up.

“Er- yes. Suppose it is.” Thomas answered hesitantly. If Edward didn’t know then it meant he hadn’t received any cards. _Well I guess we’ve both been forgotten, then_ … he thought to himself bitterly.

“A-ah.” the lieutenant cleared his throat. “Well, that is… It’s jolly good of you to come into work today.”

Thomas barked a laugh, looking at Edward incredulously.

“Don’t think it’s really an option for me not to. We are still in a war, you know.”

Edward’s mouth opened and shut once and he ran a hand through his hair, looking bashful.

“Right, of course.”  
“Thanks ever so for coming in to be my _patient_ today. Even though it’s a holiday and all.” Thomas laughed, shaking his head.

Edward smiled sheepishly, bowing his head.

“It’s just… I-I have a card for you, that’s all…” Edward managed to stammer out.

Thomas’s mouth hung open for several seconds until Edward seemed to misinterpret his shock and a look of worry passed over his face.

“God, Thomas. I- I don’t mean… I don’t mean anything **_by_** it, it just happened to be on Valentines Day and it’s just-. It’s not anything **_i-inappropriate_** just…. Say something, won’t you?”

“No, I… Thank you.” Thomas finally said, taking the breath he’d been holding. “That’s very kind of you, Edward.” 

He put his hand on his side table and felt around until his fingertips landed across an envelope which he presented to Thomas.

“Nurse Crawley helped me write it. But I’m afraid it’s in my own hand so it may be incomprehensible. It’s the first thing I’ve tried writing since- since I lost my sight.” Edward babbled on but Thomas was entranced, running his hand across the envelope. Who knew paper could feel so extraordinary and so strangely magical? He’d never received a Valentines card before- not even from Daisy when she’d fancied him. It was the sort of thing he might not have fully realized how much he wanted until he had it in his hands.

Thomas was glad that Edward couldn’t see his face turning beet red. “Sh-should I read it now or-?” he asked as he began sliding his thumb under the top of the envelope but Edward stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“No! Er- that is…” a slight pink was rising in the pale man’s cheeks as well and he ran his tongue over his lips nervously. “I’d prefer it if you waited. To spare me the embarassment. If you don’t mind.”

“Certainly.” Thomas agreed. Edward’s boney fingers were still clasped around his upper arm and he was leaning halfway out of bed, the pleasant flush still in his cheeks.

He tucked the letter into the breastpocket of his jacket and for the rest of the time as he read the newspaper to Edward it felt like a pleasant weight, warming his skin through the fabric of his clothes.  

When the day was over he said goodbye to Edward and went back to his room, with a bit more of a skip in his step than normal and quickly closed the door behind him, sitting on his bed and removing the letter from his pocket.

He slid his finger carefully under the seal so that it wouldn’t tear- he wanted to keep it intact. The writing was a bit messy and the words seemed to slant in one direction and then correct eachother, occasionally letters seemed to fall ontop of eachother and there were several place where lines had been entirely crossed out and written over. But it was legible.

_Dear Thomas,_

_I can’t begin to express to you what your companionship has meant to me. When I first came to this hospital I had no hope for recovery and no hope for a life. I felt like an island, competely isolated from the rest of the people around me who couldn’t understand my suffering. I didn’t see the point in carrying on or even making an attempt to be cheerful._

_Your entrance into my life has changed me considerably. Your wit and your dedication in staying by my side even on my bad days has kept me going and even made me smile._

_I’m sorry for the days when I’m cross and I snap at you. I’m sorry that we can’t be friends the way we could’ve if it was a different time and I wasn’t the way I am. I wish I could see your smiling face just once. But truly it is enough for me to be able to hear your laughter and your voice everyday, to smell your cigarettes when you sit too close, and to feel the weight of your prescence beside me. It never could’ve occurred to me before that these things could become so, so, deeply important to me. Now I can’t imagine my life without them._

_You’ve made me very happy Thomas. Happier than I could’ve ever hoped for in this state. I can imagine a life for myself now and I owe that to you._

_I can never thank you enough but you have all my deepest gratitude,_

_Sincerely yours,_

_Edward Courtenay_

Thomas swiped at his eyes stubbornly refusing to let himself cry over a Valentines Day card. He read it three times before folding it back and carefully putting it back into its envelope. 


	3. February 14, 1922

**February 14, 1922**

“It’s a load of tosh, isn’t it? Valentines Day I mean.” Jimmy Kent was smoking. Thomas remembered the exact day Jimmy Kent had started smoking because he’d asked Thomas for a drag off of his cigarette. He’d sworn then that he’d been smoking for ages but Thomas had never seen him. Now he did it all the time, it seemed.

Thomas tapped his own cigarette on the edge of the ashtray on the table between them and fanned out the cards in his hand, looking at them and not at the footman across from him. It was late and Alfred had already abandoned them, even the kitchenmaids couldn’t be heard washing up.

“You sure you’re not saying that because no one gave you a card?” Thomas asked wryly.

Jimmy scoffed. “That’s not it. It’s just silly, isn’t it? People act like on Valentines Day you’re supposed to confess your love to someone but that’s not really how it works, is it?”

He sighed as if the problem was giving him genuine grief.

“I mean, of course you have the Bateses and they give eachother cards but they **_know_** they love eachother I mean they’re married.  So what’s the point in it? They probably say it to eachother everyday not just once a year.”

“Don’t talk about the Bates’ romance life, you’ll turn my stomach.” Thomas said with a wince. Jimmy smiled briefly at that but after another moment of silence and playing cards, the furrow in his brow returned.

“And Daisy got a Valentine from a ‘secret’ admirer I suppose but that’s no good either, is it? I mean what’s the point in saying you love someone if they don’t know it’s you?”

“To make them happy.” Thomas said with a shrug. Jimmy looked confused by this concept.

“Daisy doesn’t seem overjoyed by it. If anything I think it’s causing her a lot of grief. If it were me I’d be worried too- about who gave it to me and such. Think it would annoy me more than make me happy.” he wrinkled his nose.

Thomas just chuckled, shaking his head. From being Jimmy’s friend he had long suffering experience of how Jimmy’s moods could take these strange turns and he could become fixated on something seemingly insignificant that would plague him for hours. Thomas thought it was rather charming of him, if he were honest.

“I’m saying it’s stupid. Giving cards, getting cards, it never really means anything.” Jimmy sighed, stamping out his cigarette.

“I don’t know about that…” Thomas said, smiling slightly as he remembered the letter he still kept in his room. Every year he became more worried that the writing Edward had so worried would become illegible really would become unreadable as time made the ink fade. The paper had become thin and delicate and now when he took it out to read he was in danger of ripping it.

“But if you really wanted to confess your love to someone, I don’t think you could do it in a Valentine card. It’s too embarassing and cliché. What if the person you gave it to didn’t want it and rejected you? How awful that would be.”

“Alfred gave a card to Ivy.” Thomas corrected him.

“Oh but everyone in the house knows he loves Ivy, including Ivy. Feel sorry for her.” Jimmy rolled his eyes, playing a card.

“I don’t understand what your problem with it is, Jimmy.” Thomas said, shaking his head.

“For people you really care about, you can’t do anything on this day. And it’s frustrating. It should be all about love- or that’s what everyone says it is. But really it’s just like every other day- if you really care about someone either they already know or you can’t show it to them.” Jimmy said bitterly, lighting a fresh cigarette.

“Well, you’re right.” Thomas said, smiling appeasingly at Jimmy. “Valentine’s Day is a fool’s holiday and aren’t we all the smarter for not celebrating it.”

“I wish I could drink to that.” Jimmy said, his face looking overcome with relief at Thomas’s words. Under the table the tips of his shoes brushed Thomas’s shoes and he jumped, clearing his throat and moving back a bit. A flush had risen to his cheeks and he was looking down at his cards with deep concentration.

“I’m sure next year you’ll have received lots more cards.” Thomas added, putting out his own cigarette which was burning to ash in his hand.

“Just one would be enough.” Jimmy said, refusing to meet Thomas’s eyes, his face going a few shades darker red, “If it were from the right person.”

Thomas smiled and drew a new card- the jack of hearts.

 


End file.
